


Compare and Contrast

by parsnips (trifles)



Series: Tales of Love, Loss, and Insurance [26]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Fantastic Four, Glee, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anger, Anxiety, Body Dysphoria, Body Image, Bonding, Boredom, Canon Disabled Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Choices, Cliffhangers, Cooking, Destruction, Disability, Family, Fantastic Four Cameos, Fights, Food Metaphors, Gen, Glee Cameos, Hallucinations, Humor, Identity Issues, Insurance, Kissing, MCU Bucky, Many Buckys!, Mental Health Issues, Multiverse, Owlet's This You Protect Bucky, Reed Richards makes a mistake, Retirement, Sam Wilson is So Done, Self-Acceptance, So many Buckys, So much annoyance, Stealth Crossover, The Olds, Trolling, Worry, a list of good things, insurance bucky, is it weird to tag something 'making friends with yourself'?, trapped in another universe and nobody's happy about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-07-19 13:35:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7363342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trifles/pseuds/parsnips
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day Reed Richards decided to have a real good idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In which this is Part 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Upgrade: Advanced Happiness Skills](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4806749) by [owlet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlet/pseuds/owlet). 



> This is the world of [insurance-Bucky](http://triflesandparsnips.tumblr.com/tagged/fic%3Ainsurance%21bucky). These are his stories.
> 
> This is also borrowing Owlet's [Infinite Coffee and Protection Detail](http://archiveofourown.org/series/195689) Barnes, and MCU's Civil War Bucky from just before the mid-credits scene.

So one day, there’s an accident. It’s Reed Richards’s fault. Bucky doesn’t really know the guy, except that the inter-dimensional shit his team messes around with tends to cause a lot of trouble. Also, Bucky isn’t sure what Dr. Doom’s insurance is like, but he knows that masks you have to wear all the time are no fun, so maybe Bucky should send some pamphlets or something over there.

Stark tells Bucky that Dr. Doom is a villain when Bucky mentions it. Bucky has opinions about that kind of shit. He sharpens his knives meaningfully in the common room until Stark goes away.

Bucky’s been sharpening his knives a lot recently.

Here’s the skinny: Richards decided to have a real good idea. This led to a lot of things, but the important part for this story is that suddenly, there were three Buckys in the tower. There had been for over a week now, and nobody was really close to sending everybody back home again. It had only been in the last couple of days that anyone (Steve) had persuaded any of the Buckys to stop hiding in various locations and attempting to kill one another for the good of team.

Bucky thinks his response to this situation is _perfectly normal._ He was the goddamn Winter Soldier. He’s only barely _not_ the Winter Soldier most of the time. There’s no version of him that isn’t dangerous, unless a young Bucky Barnes from 1938 suddenly appears and tries to fucking dance his way into everyone’s good graces. In which case probably Bucky will try to kill him just so the kid doesn’t have such a shit future in store.

Anyway. It takes a few days, the intervention of Thor twice, Barton being an annoying bastard once, and Steve spending all his time looking a combination of depressed and overwhelmed any time he saw any of the Buckys, but they finally figure out that maybe all of them are in the later part of their murderous timelines. Then it’s just a matter of staying out of each other’s ways.

Bucky -- the real Bucky -- is obviously the best of the bunch. He contributes. He doesn’t mope around like the Bucky with the missing arm and the notebook where he writes, like, poetry or whatever. He also doesn’t spend all his time in the kitchen baking like the Bucky who talks to himself and doesn’t clean his weapons enough.

Bucky, because he is awesome, drops a square of folded paper onto Mopey from the airduct. It’s a pamphlet. It has Stark’s new prosthesis program highlighted on it. Mopey looks at it, but he stays mopey, because apparently being in Bucky’s excellent universe full of medical benefits for veterans is just too depressing for words. Mopey goes back to writing, his notebook propped on his knee while he makes loops of letters that, admittedly, look closer to how Bucky’s handwriting used to be than it does now.

The baker version of him is a weirdo. He cooks. He spends a lot of time staring at Steve. The real Bucky is completely aware that Steve is a mook with an uncomfortable wombat obsession, but maybe Baker is earlier in his timeline than him. Maybe he’s not used to seeing Steve around. Bucky spends some quality time taking pictures of Steve asleep and snoring in his room, and then has JARVIS send them to Baker's phone. Then Bucky makes an appointment for Steve to see an otolaryngologist, because he fucking can these days.

About ten days after Reed Richards wins the the Biggest Idiot contest by a landslide, Bucky is in the corner of the common room reading up on Britain’s National Health Service and how it compares to the system Latveria has in place when Baker steps through the door. They both freeze. Then Baker, with apparently some effort, says, “Steve?”

Bucky makes a face. “Mission,” he says back.

Baker mutters darkly to himself, stomps around the counter that separates the common room from the group kitchen, and starts pulling shit off the shelves. Oh good. Not weird at all.

Bucky goes back to reading about insurance.

Shortly afterward, however, Mopey comes into the room. He always wears a lot of white, and he’s carrying his damned notebook and also, notably, he still has no arm. Bucky wonders if in Mopey’s universe, Steve gave up all his self-sacrificing martyrdom and heaped it onto Mopey. It would make sense. Except for the part where it’s impossible to imagine Steve not being self-sacrificing in any universe, so maybe Mopey’s universe is just shitty.

Mopey stops in the doorway, and frowns at the two other Buckys already occupying the space. Then he visibly loosens his stance and goes to sit on the couch. In sightline with the other Buckys.

Actually, they’ve all got a good eye on each other. And –- hey, it looks like they _all_ have stilettos in their hair.

This time it’s Mopey who says, “Steve?”

Bucky and Baker say, “Mission” at the same time, in identical tones of disgruntlement, and Mopey frowns.

“And he didn’t take any of us?”

Bucky points at Mopey. “No arm.” He points at Baker. “No appreciable skills outside of baking.” He hesitates and then jerks his chin up. “No security clearance.”

Baker frowns heavily. “What.”

Mopey also frowns, though it looks a bit more tired. “I only _need_ one arm.”

“Are you saying we cannot protect Steve,” Baker says. He has flour on his hands, for christ’s sake. Then he follows that up by saying, “It’s not like you’re some great mission-assist, buddy. ‘Security clearance,’ my ass.”

Bucky narrows his eyes. Baker narrows his eyes. Mopey, apparently wanting to be a goddamn individual, rolls his eyes.

Then he throws his notebook.

It spins as tight as a knife at Baker, who instantly plucks up the bag of flour on the counter and deflects it. The bag bursts, and a white cloud springs out, momentarily blinding that entire area of the kitchen. Mopey doesn’t press the advantage, though -- he vaults over the back of the couch out of Bucky’s sight, which is just great, because it means that Bucky’s not exactly sure where Mopey is until a stiletto comes flying out from the left, aimed at Bucky’s damn _head._

Bucky lifts his reading material and the knife pierces it instead of Bucky’s face. He yanks it and the stiletto in his own hair out just in time to turn to Baker, who’s apparently taking this opportunity to charge in his direction. Bucky expects yet another knife, but Baker just kicks him center-mass, the way Steve would if he was playing around instead of going for the kill.

(This is probably because Steve is a pushover, and also, Bucky should be concentrating on this mess instead of thinking about Steve’s sloppy training regimen.)

Bucky crashes against the wall and bounces off it, avoiding the knife that Baker has finally brought to the party, and uses his momentum to run over and knock the couch backward. Disappointingly, Mopey is no longer behind it. Where he _is_ becomes immediately apparent when a bare foot sweeps Bucky’s legs out from under him. Mopey is looking grimly determined as he flips Bucky over and gets his arm around Bucky’s neck, pulling it back into a sleeper hold.

Bucky’s in the middle of planning his defense -- basically involving having two arms, because seriously, this is just a minor setback -- when he feels Mopey tense and then loosen a little bit. Behind them, Baker’s voice says, “It is mission-noncompliant to upset Rogers. But I swear to god, you’re both annoying enough to risk it.”

Bucky risks turning his head slightly in the looser grip, and sees Baker holding his knife against Mopey’s throat, his other arm gripping him by the midsection.

Which, hey, is an excellent opportunity for Bucky to buck them both off, twist in place and land with his knees in both their guts. Awesome. He still has his two knives, so-–

Oh.

During the flip, Mopey apparently used his stealthy meat hand to relieve Bucky of one of the stilettos. Baker still has his own. There are now three Buckys in various positions of deadly tetchiness, each with a knife and each ready to make their skill sets very apparent.

This is the scene Sam walks into.

“Flying Sam,” says Baker. He hasn’t blinked since they formed the murder pretzel. “Tell them that I am more than capable of protecting Rogers.”

Bucky just says, “Sam,” and assumes that the point will be made.

Mopey exhales noisily and doesn’t say anything at all.

Sam looks at them. Then he looks at the kitchen, the couch, the dents in the wall, the flour generously coating everything and the various destroyed paper ephemera. 

“I do not deserve this,” Sam says.

This may or may not be accurate, depending on your universe.

The Buckys end up holding position until Steve gets back and spends about an hour being thoroughly disappointed in all of them.


	2. In which this is Part 2

So all the Buckys? Yeah, they’re still around.

Baker says he wants to be called Barnes. Okay. Mopey says that he wants to be Bucky, but that’s too bad, because the real Bucky is already here, so unless he wants to be called Mopey from here on out, he’d better pick something else.

Mopey says he’ll answer to James. But then he writes, like, ten pages of tightly knit text into his notebook and looks woebegone the entire time, so it’s almost not worth it.

It’s been more than a couple of weeks now. Barnes and James are starting to look antsy – it’s hard to tell which one is worse. James tries to stay away from everyone, particularly Steve. In contrast, the only time Barnes seems to leave the kitchen is to force baked goods down Steve’s throat.

Bucky watches them both. Barnes somehow got JARVIS to set up a livefeed that consists entirely of Steve and his Steve-ish activities. (Bucky should talk to Barnes and see if his Steve watches as many goddamn nature documentaries.) James rubs his shoulder a lot, and once actually bared his teeth at Stark. (It was probably meant to be a smile, but hello, Bucky can tell the difference between ‘happy’ and ‘just give me one good reason to use this knife.’)

It’s a little surprising to everyone that the Buckys, if given the choice, tend to gravitate toward one another over anybody else. For as different as they all are, they’re still mostly them.

One day James is sitting on the common room couch, looking sad some more. Barnes, momentarily out of butter, tentatively goes to sit on James’s other side, squished as far as possible into the opposite corner. He taps his metal fingers on his knee. Abruptly, he says, “It is undesirable to be without purpose.”

Bucky, in his habitual spot on the floor, doesn’t move. James flinches.

“I’m tired of having a purpose,” James says. Under the cloth cap covering his metal stump, the faint twisted whir of broken machinery scrapes the air.

Barnes keeps tapping his knee. “Missions,” he says, the word slow to come. There’s another long pause, and then: “We had many missions. But they were not ours to choose.” He turns to look at James, and for a moment he has the same sad expression that James seems to perpetually wear. “Missions provide focus, positive results. Purpose. We can be the ones who decide what mission to take. We can decide our own purpose.”

James closes his eyes.

Bucky doesn’t clear his throat, because why would he, but he does say, “You cook a lot.”

Barnes shrugs, and his posture immediately loosens up, almost like 1940 come back for a visit. “I’m stuck here, champ. There’s not much I can do about it. So I cook. It’s better than a lot of other missions I’ve been on, and I know for a fact that I’m the one who picked it. I’m my own damn mission head.”

That seems to wipe him out for the moment – he folds back into himself, and stares at his lap.

James opens his eyes and closes his notebook. He picks at the cover a little. “I like plums,” he says lowly. He turns to look at Barnes. “Do you know how to make anything with plums?”

Barnes tilts his head back and starts tapping his knee again. “Jam. Pie.” His eyes go a little distant. “Salad. With cheese. Vinegar. Maybe arugula.”

As he speaks and James starts to smile a little, Bucky quietly asks JARVIS to have a case of plums delivered, and a list of recipes sent to both James and Barnes. It makes for a nice afternoon.


	3. In which this is Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter references [Know, Knowing, Known](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3437282) from this series, and, to a lesser degree, [We're So Happy, Yes, We're So Happy](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3832360).

There’s been something of a breakthrough. Not with the multiverse stuff -- that’d be too useful. Just… between the Buckys. 

Bucky seeks out Barnes in the kitchen. They stand looking at each other for a long moment.

“You talk to yourself,” Bucky says.

Barnes shifts slightly. “You track invisible things.”

Neither of them move. 

It’s finally Bucky who says, “My dog. Her name’s Aoife.”

Barnes frowns a little, distant. “Familiar,” he says. He focuses again, and taps his forehead. “Mission. Briefing. Barnes.” He hesitates. “There might be a couple others. Not real sure.”

Excellent. Bucky has a copy of the DSM-IV, the list of requirements for supplemental security income, and a lot of time on his hands. Who knows how long these guys are gonna be around. Better to start the application process now.

“So if that’s us,” Bucky says, “then what’s James got?”

Barnes calls up a screen showing James sitting in his room, looking out his window at the New York skyline. His notebook is on the floor. Barnes’s finger hovers over it.

“Think that might be it,” he says. The pages are bent where the book landed wrong. And there’s a dent in the wall above it.

“Fuck,” says Bucky.

“Confirm,” says Barnes.


	4. In which this is Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This chapter written as a thank you fic for jazzypizzaz on [tumblr](http://triflesandparsnips.tumblr.com/post/151340158855/part-three-of-multiplebuckys-for-jazzypizzazs).)

Tony walks into his workshop to find Bucky and Barnes sitting on one of his workbenches, perusing what appears to be a selection of Tony’s mail.

It’s the third time it’s happened, though the mail is a new twist. It’s almost not worth asking how or why. He does, however, say, “Transitioning to low-end federal offenses?”

Bucky delicately flicks through the pile. “We’re looking for your social security statement.”

“We requested a paper copy,” says Barnes.

“We need it,” says Bucky.

Tony is torn between a couple of different responses. What he settles on is, “What.”

Bucky doesn’t bother looking up. “Social security is a form of governmental insurance. Social security statements are sent to some workers every five years starting at the age of 25 through to the age of 60. These statements contain an estimate of how much you will receive if you sign up for social security at your full retirement age of either 62 or 70. In addition, it contains information regarding disability benefits, death benefits for dependent children and spouses, and your earnings record." 

Bucky directs Barnes’s attention to one particular envelope. They both snicker. It sounds eerily alike.

Tony crosses his arms. "It's weird and unsettling every time you talk about death benefits,” he says.

“You’re weird,” Barnes says. He and Bucky pound fists without apparently checking to see if the other was going for it.

Stark gives up. “ _Why_ do you need it?”

Bucky draws another envelope from the pile and hums with approval. He slits it open with one metal finger and hands it to Barnes. Barnes starts reading; Bucky looks up and smiles blandly at Stark. “The Social Security Act was signed into law by President Roosevelt in 1935. I was declared dead in 1944. Barnes and Steve were both listed as missing in action.” (He does not add that James doesn’t say anything at all whenever the topic arises. That’s between the three of them. And maybe Steve.) “It’s important to regularly check your statement to ensure that the amounts you have paid into social security and Medicare throughout your career are being accurately recorded." 

Tony observes the pair before him. Whatever is actually going on, it’s probably keeping the Murder Triplets occupied, which is better than them constantly wrecking the place to prove their machismo -– though not, apparently, enough to stave off their progressively more elaborate and annoying infiltrations of his workshop.

"We’re helping Potts look into retirement information,” Barnes adds, looking up.

Tony, distracted somewhat by the notion of installing microfilament spikes imbued with some kind of chemical equivalent of urushiol into the air vents, doesn’t sense the trap before him. “Didn’t know you were planning on hanging up your black hats,” he says.

Bucky’s smile somehow gets more bland. Barnes’s matches. "Not for us, chief,“ Bucky says. "It’s a present for Potts.”

“She needs a break,” says Barnes.

“Florida’s nice,” says Bucky.

Tony blinks. “But Pepper isn’t–-”

Barnes raises the paperwork he’s been reading. Bucky’s smile turns sharp.

Tony looks between them both, and the penny drops.

***

They time how long Stark’s very imaginative threats and curses last. It’s pretty great. Afterward, in the common room, they lounge on the couch and Bucky says, “Next?”

Barnes picks at his jeans, and after a moment says, “I have -– had –- people. In Brooklyn. Old people. If they’re here, too, then we should go to them. Surveil. Approach.” He contemplates the air. “Invite them to visit Stark and talk at him about the benefits of Medicare.”

Barnes hasn’t mentioned these old people before. Maybe it’s a sign of him trusting –- himself? -– a little more. It’s nice.

They sit, comfortable in one another’s presence, and think identical thoughts about the immediate availability of prunes.


	5. In which this is Part 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This chapter references [There's a Resemblance](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3437078) from this series.)

Bucky and Barnes are growing steadily more concerned. James has stopped leaving his room -- which, hey, they’ve all been there -- but he’s refusing to see _Steve,_ and that’s just plain wrong.

“Is he making a safe space,” Barnes asks, nibbling fretfully at a spoonful of plum clafoutis.

They’re both watching the feed JARVIS has helpfully set up in Barnes’s temporary living area. Bucky had voted for the airduct above the Steve’s room, but Barnes’s mission briefing had gotten kind of vocal about that, so a boring table-top feed it was.

On screen, James picks up his notebook and sets it on the desk in front of him. He opens it with his right hand, and then holds it open with the stump of his left arm as he goes to reach for a pen. Misses it slightly. The pen rolls off the desk, and he automatically goes to catch it. But when he reaches for the pen, his stump lifts from the book, and it flaps shut. He hears the sound, looks at the book, fumbles the pen. The pen’s on the floor, the book’s closed again, and James is just staring at it all.

Then he slams back his chair and flips the table.

“That doesn’t look like a safe space,” Bucky says, and sneaks a bite off Barnes’s plate. Barnes glares at him, unimpressed.

James is now doing a lot of damage to Stark property. Considering what few things James has said on the matter, Bucky and Barnes are inclined to let him vent his emotions in this non-lethal and probably cathartic manner. Besides, if Stark doesn’t have property insurance, this will probably be an important lesson.

The two of them watch for a while. It becomes quickly apparent that the wall plasterer is going to have a field day.

“We should call Flying Sam,” Barnes says, because he’s a weirdo who likes defined nomenclatures.

“James won’t talk to him,” Bucky says. They share a look. Yet more evidence of James’s issues.

Something unfortunate is now happening to Stark’s carpeting.

“Do you have a list of good things,” Barnes says. Bucky raises his eyebrows. Barnes screws up his face. “Things that are good no matter what,” he tries again.

“Do you?” Bucky asks.

Barnes spends a moment looking both shifty and superior, which is impressive. “The Olds,” he says. Bucky nods. They were pretty great, but probably not a good resource at the moment. “Cooking.” Baking, but sure, buddy. Also not applicable. “Hair Club--”

“What?” Bucky goes for another bite of the clafoutis.

Barnes stabs him meaningfully with his fork. The metal dings against Bucky’s hand. “James needs a good thing.”

Bucky nods toward the screen.

“I said a good thing, asshole.”

Bucky is delighted. Would it be hilarious to get all the Buckys swearing at Steve at once? It super would. Next item on the agenda, right after dealing with James. Which, come to think of it…

“I’ve got an idea.”

\--

It’s a couple of days later. The contractors have come and gone. There are scuff marks from the furniture movers, which a small, cheerful robot is almost done removing.

Clint shuffles into the common area and, through sheer reflex, manages not to get stabbed in the eye.

A young man with gelled hair and a familiar face looks at him from across the room, horrified. James, standing next to him and holding a small arsenal of throwing knives, doesn’t look much better.

Bucky and Barnes are sitting on either side of a young blonde woman who is carefully decorating their arms with magnets and temporary rainbow tattoos. The three of them look up and frown at Clint.

“Oh my god, I’m so-- I’m so sorry, that was, I didn’t mean to-- I mean, I meant to-- but not you! The thing! Target! On the-- not you! Oh god,” the young man says, his voice stumbling to a pained whisper, “I almost killed an Avenger.”

“No, you didn’t,” say the Buckys.

It’s disconcerting as fuck, is what Clint thinks. And also, knives? Why are there more knives?

“Do you like cats?” the blonde asks Barnes. He nods shyly. She pulls out a sheet of stickers.

Bucky points at the kid with the throwing arm. “Blaine. Great-nephew. Not sure if he exists in other universes. He’s got clearance from last time. Which you should know.” He jerks a thumb at the blonde. “Britt. Also has clearance. Again.”

The blonde doesn’t look up. “David Bowie is amazing,” she says. She doesn’t look like she’s expecting a reply.

James scowls at Clint, all embarrassment apparently over. “We’re busy here.”

“Hi, sorry, um,” says the kid, the nephew, and he turns and mutters frantically at James. It’s probably about murder or something.

The thing is, James’s face softens when the kid leans in, and for the first time since he’s been in the tower, he looks… not so miserable.

Clint glances over at Bucky and Barnes. They give him identical glowers. He carefully backs out of the room.

For once, he’s got his ears in. And as the door closes, he hears one of the Buckys -- and he’s not sure which one -- say, “Add ‘family’ to the list of good things.”


	6. In which this is part 6

How long have there been three Buckys in the tower? _Too_ long.

–-

“Is there any sort of time line on the fix?” Natasha says, sitting on the conference room table and kicking her legs. On the screen in front of her is an oversized projection of Sue Storm’s face.

Sue rolls her eyes. “You know Reed.” Natasha is actually rather glad that she does not know Reed. “It’s either at some indeterminable point in the future, or it’s already happened in another universe, so why don’t we just check there.”

Natasha pauses delicately. “Is there anything actually preventing us from checking another universe?”

Sue breathes heavily through her nose. “How do you think this happened in the _first_ place?”

–-

Bucky, James, and Barnes. At this point, they’re pretty much a package deal. James is generally identifiable because, surprise surprise, he still has only one arm. Bucky and Barnes, on the other hand, have graduated to pulling twin-pranks on everybody. They’re successful about 40% of the time.

(“Steve,” one calls out from the elevator, “c’mon, I’m holding the door here.” “STEVE,” says another, wide-eyed and plucking at Steve’s sleeve, “that’s not the real Bucky.”)

(They find this _hilarious.)_

–-

On a particularly overcast Tuesday, Tony and James find themselves unaccountably in the same room at the same time.

Tony is many things, but stupid isn’t one of them. He’s also got a couple of doctorates in various maths, so he’s pretty confident he can add up “no arm” and “hates my face” and get why James might have an issue with him.

Thing is, Tony knows what happened with the Winter Soldier and his parents. He’s known for a while -– before Bucky (his Bucky, their Bucky, whatever) ever made it to the Tower. He’s had time to process it, think it over, _drink_ it over, and then get over it. (“Get over” is not entirely accurate, but this story isn’t about Tony, so we’re just going to skip all that.)

It is not outside the realm of possibility that a different universe’s Tony might have, uh, reacted poorly to the situation.

It’s an uncomfortable sensation, feeling like he needs to apologize for something he didn’t even do, but then again, he sort of did, so: “Sorry about the arm.”

James flinches, but turns his dead-eyed attention toward Tony.

(“Dead-eyed” is unfair. He just looks… tired. The kind of tired that Tony’s been for, oh, years.)

“I mean,” Tony says, “I’m sure I’m a dick across the multiverse, but that seems overly personal for the kind of assholery I prefer to espouse.”

James breathes, slow in and out breaths. “I deserved it,” he says, low and far away.

Well, and if this isn’t a carnival ride Tony’s been on too many times before. “Doubt it,” he says, and flicks his fingers at the air. A screen appears before him –- he shoves it in James’s direction.

James almost ducks it, at first, but the hologram stops a polite distance away. His eyes widen. On the screen is a new arm, based on the prosthetics Tony’s been building for veterans. Better, of course, because regular soldiers can’t really handle the kind of hardware that can be supported by the jacked-up internal support system that comes with invasive and dehumanizing seventy-year-old surgery.

It’s a good arm. Tony likes it. “It’s yours, if you want it,” he says. And then he gets the hell out of Dodge, before he has to hear James say no.

Better to give the kid some time to think about it, anyway.

–-

Thor’s been kind of in the wind for a while, so he’s unaware of the current Bucky-in-triplicate situation. He might not show up, but, whatever, if he does, no big deal. Of all of them, he’s the most likely to take it in stride.

What no one realizes, unfortunately, is that James has never met Thor.

This becomes readily apparent when Thor does show up on a lovely Thursday, flying up to a window on the communal floor. He pushes it open, calls out, “Greetings!–-” 

–-and abruptly has a two-hundred-fifty-pound necklace of machine-like destruction delicately wrapped around his neck.

Thor is startled enough to actually botch his landing. Banner subtly slips from the room. Natasha blinks heavily, and Steve says, “James, no, that’s-–”

It’s pretty embarrassing. Which is why Bucky decides that it’s the better part of valor to join James and see how long it takes Thor to shake both of them off.

–-

“Any word?” Natasha asks Sue, this time over the phone as she gets herself a nice gelato in Helsinki. (It’s been a long few weeks. Sometimes work is its own vacation.)

“No,” says Sue. “Are everyone’s corporeal matrices still stable?”

“What?” says Natasha.

“What?” says Sue.

“Is that something we should be looking out for?” says Natasha.

“I think I hear Reed,” says Sue, and hangs up.

–-

Speaking of Banner. You know who else James hasn’t met? The Hulk.

I mean, he didn’t know Banner, either, but Banner’s a pretty easy guy to get introduced to. All of the Bucky/Banner introductions, throughout the universes, have generally gone as well as two introverted weapons of mass destruction meeting could go. There’s a hi, hello, nod, and then quietly going about their day, with the implicit assumption that they each carry Death within them. The usual stuff.

The Hulk is a different matter entirely. The Hulk, when there’s an unfortunate explosion in the labs and he therefore has to make an appearance, does not appreciate there being three identical people who are indistinguishable by smell and have only slight physical differences. Bucky and Barnes had met the Hulk previously, and knew enough to make themselves scarce.

James, on the other hand, and unbeknownst to everybody else, is an _idiot._

“Whoa,” he says, as the Hulk uncurls from his crouch and glares around the labs. There’s a glass partition between Banner’s and Tony’s –- James is therefore protected by exactly _nothing much_  as he’s sitting in Tony’s lab and getting scanned by JARVIS. He’d shown up that morning to _maybe_ get a new arm installed. He doesn’t have it yet, though, so sitting around and looking wide-eyed at a six-meter tall rage monster and, dear god, _starting to smile,_ isn’t exactly the smartest thing he could be doing right at that moment.

“Should we set off the sleepytime drugs?” Clint asks, staring at the security feeds well, well away from the labs.

“No,” says Natasha. “The fire suppression system hasn’t put out the fire yet – the Hulk needs to stay awake to keep Bruce breathing.”

Over in Tony’s lab, James is actually, _literally_ saying, “Wouldja lookit that.”

Blond, flying gods –- hell no. Hapless scientists transforming into enormous green monsters -– well, gosh, that’s just _neat._

“Now is not the time to get your geek on,” says Tony’s voice from behind a well-placed lab bench. 

“But–-” says James. 

The Hulk, displeased by life, roars. James’s eyes get, if possible, even wider. 

“ _Wow.”_

–-

Steve, hearing this story later, is not impressed.

–-

About Steve, though. That’s where things are getting a little tricky.

He just keeps _watching_ all of them. Barnes has a disturbing habit of watching back, but Bucky and James are not comfortable with this level of interest in their persons.

The two of them are hunkered in one of the elevator shafts, because, well, why the hell not. Bucky cleans his guns in a disgruntled manner. “He was getting weird before this,” he mutters at James. “There was this thing. Wombats. Just– weird.”

“Mine is-– different,” James says, the word ‘mine’ a little rough in his mouth. “More unhappy.”

Bucky considers the great and unending martyrdom of Steven Grant Rogers. “What the hell,” he says. James shrugs, and scratches little hash marks in his notebook.

“What do you think Barnes’s is like?” Bucky says after a few minutes.

James shrugs again. “Like him, maybe. Maybe he bakes. Maybe they own their own goddamn coffeeshop.”

Bucky contemplates his SIG-Sauer. “Boring,” he says after much thought.

“At least it’s not wombats,” James says, and then–- “Maybe he’s happy.”

Neither of them say it, but they both think it would be kind of nice if that was the case.

–-

“Sue,” says Natasha.

“It’s fine!” says Sue. “Everything’s fine!”

–-

And so it happens on an otherwise unremarkable Saturday: In the middle of the common area, as the whole team is trying to teach the Buckys how to play a complex and nonsensical drinking game, two identical portals open.

Out of the one on the left steps a tall, black man. “I am T’Challa,” he says, a Wakandan accent polishing his words. James straightens up, but everybody else is uncertain. Natasha says, “The crown prince?” and, for a brief moment, the man is still. Then he shakes his head, smiles politely, and turns to look at James.

“Dr. Richards and I have been working together to retrieve you. Do you have anything you need to leave here? Only the smallest of particles from this universe can safely enter our own.”

James, face almost as blank as it had been when he’d arrived, waves his new arm. T’Challa’s attention snaps instantly to it. “Interesting,” he breathes. “We will have to see what can be done in our own laboratories.”

James takes off the arm. He hands it to Tony, and then steps toward T’Challa.

“Wait,” says Bucky, and then realizes he doesn’t know what to say.

Barnes, of all people, steps up. “Remember your purpose,” he says. T’Challa and, frankly, the majority of the people in the room all look uneasy at the words, but the faraway look in James’s eyes retreats a little, and he gives the smallest of smiles before stepping again toward T’Challa and the lefthand portal.

Actually, let's talk about the lefthand portal. The opening of the lefthand portal has, so far, been a momentous occasion. The lefthand portal represents everything a serious farewell and end to a multi-chapter journey of discovery should be.

To counterbalance this: there is the righthand portal.

Up until this very moment, the righthand portal had done nothing except emit a fairly odd set of muted noises and some funky light effects. However, immediately upon James taking that penultimate step back into his own universe, the righthand portal roars, and out steps-–

Steve.

A different Steve. _Barnes’s_ Steve.

He’s in uniform, and it’s burned in some patches and covered in purple goop in others, and his cowl is off, and his hair is stupid. His eyes immediately flick between everyone present, and lands squarely on–-

“ _Bucky,”_ he says, stepping toward Barnes, and–-

“Holy shit,” says James.

Barnes and Steve have thrown punches at one another’s faces, but with their _mouths._

Bucky’s Steve makes a faint sound.

Bucky himself doesn’t quite know what he’s doing, except he knows he can’t look away.

Barnes and Barnes’s-Steve finally break apart, and Barnes’s-Steve says, “You mook.”

“Sez you,” says Barnes, and then _again with the kissing._

A moment passes, and T’Challa delicately clears his throat. “I’m going to assume that Dr. Richards aided in the creation of the other portal. We should not linger here, though; it’s unsteady. Make your goodbyes, yes?”

“Sure, sure,” says James, still staring at the righthand extravaganza. “Bye.”

He waves a hand and distractedly walks past T’Challa and through the portal. The last thing Bucky sees is James turn around and, of all things, look _speculative._

T’Challa makes a brief bow, goes through his portal, and a moment later, it collapses.

Barnes and Barnes’s-Steve come up for air. “My eyes,” Clint says faintly. Barnes snorts, and then the two idiots are practically giggling over each other.

Bucky takes the leap. “You didn’t say.” He tries not to sound accusing. He also tries not to stare too hard at where a bit of light glints wetly on Barnes’s-Steve’s mouth.

Barnes manages to look embarrassed. “Protocol,” he says. “Assess the situation, react accordingly. Didn’t seem to be a thing here, so I kept my face shut.”

Barnes’s-Steve may or may not murmur something about Barnes’s face, but Bucky isn’t close enough to hear it. Barnes, though, smiles. No-– _grins._  “Gotta go,” he says.

“Thanks for not getting him killed,” Barnes’s-Steve pipes up.

“Hey,” says Bucky. Barnes turns toward him. “You remember _your_ purpose.”

“Yes,” says Barnes. He looks like he’s going to say something else, and then–- his eyes flick past Bucky. “Huh,” Barnes says, and then waves, and pulls his Steve back through the portal.

The portal closes. 

Bucky is once more the only Bucky.

And this is when Bucky hears the door to the common area slide shut behind him.


End file.
